


A Time to Unite

by OutOfTheShadows



Series: A Time for Every Purpose [4]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 05:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutOfTheShadows/pseuds/OutOfTheShadows
Summary: Philippe continues to heal from the war, the children come home, the family bonds, Philippe, the Chevalier, and Liselotte scheme, and Louis’ vanity costs him some coin (more than the price of Philippe’s shoes!).





	A Time to Unite

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fourth story in my “Time for Every Purpose” series. While it can be read as a stand-alone narrative, you may wish to read the previous three installments first. Like the first three, this account combines some TV canon, some actual history, and some imagination on my part.
> 
> I was very unhappy with the writing in the third season/series of Versailles. While I do not mind some added drama for the sake of small screen viewership, I found the final season deviating just too far from actual history. I was especially disturbed to see some of the characters diverging too far from who they truly were, as recorded by the best historical accounts – the TV characters had little/nothing in common with the actual people who carried same names. So, part of this writing has been therapy on my part: Trying to connect what we saw on TV with who these people actually were, and then filling in some “below the waterline” parts of the historical iceberg. I’ve tried to make my fictionalizing true to the historical characters even when the TV series was not.
> 
> This story picks up immediately after “A Time to Fight”, later that same night. Please leave comments, etc., and thank you for reading.
> 
> Last, I have to apologize for the long-time gap – over a year -- between me completing the first three stories and the series and this fourth one. In the past year, I have had to deal with Graves’ Disease and thyroid cancer. Fortunately, I am now beyond the Graves’ Disease and am cancer free. It is, truly, good to be alive.

Blood. Severed limbs. The tourniquet. More blood. His sword, cutting through flesh and bone. Blood-curdling cries. The red-hot blade. Death.

“Philippe, wake up. Wake up!!!!!”

Philippe jerked awake, eyes wild with terror, to see his lover’s face over him. Another nightmare. Damn.

Philippe growled – an angry, animal sound that the Chevalier had never heard from him before – threw off the light blanket, and grabbed a vase, pummeling it against the wall, shattering it to pieces. Then a second vase, flung against the wardrobe, denting the louvered door, and finally an overturned table – contents crashing around the room – before Philippe sank to the floor, face hot with tears.

The Chevalier watched, trying to hide his horror.

Careful not to step barefoot onto broken glass, the Chevalier slowly moved to his lover’s side, and gently lifted him to his feet. “Mignonette, come back to bed – step right here now, not on that glass – now over here, that’s right” – the Chevalier quietly guided Philippe back to their bed, with Philippe slumped against him, rage evaporated, at least for now. He lowered Philippe back onto the bed, while Philippe stared at the ceiling, eyes unfocused.

At that moment, Philippe’s two valets, Robert and John-Paul pounded on the door. “Your Highness, are you all right?” 

“Come back in the morning, and clean the room up then. His Highness is fine for now.” The Chevalier heard the two valets scurry back down the hall.

Philippe rolled his face into the pillows. “How can I be a father if I cannot sleep through the night? How can I calm a child’s dreams if I can’t deal with my own nightmares?”

“You must tell me about the dream. We will face it together, deal with it, and then it will no longer rule you.”

“Why do you love me so much?”

“I doubt that I will ever know why, but I loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, and my love has only grown since.” A silent moment. “Now, tell me about the dream.”

Philippe cuddled next to his golden-haired lover, his true mate. “We were in fierce fighting, to the east, against Leopold and his forces. One of my Captains, Gilles Sauvignon, was injured badly in the right arm – a musket, I suspect, the bone was shattered along with the flesh. We tried to stop the bleeding, but quickly saw that we could not save his arm, and, if we were to save his life, we needed to finish the job the musket ball began and amputate his arm. We didn’t have time to get him to the rear and to a doctor; he was bleeding to death. We used a belt as a tourniquet, and I severed his arm with my sword. As the highest-ranking officer present, I thought it my duty. His scream was unholy – we finally got him to the rear, the doctors were overwhelmed, Sauvignon’s stump of an arm was still hemorrhaging, so I heated my sword in the coals of the nearest fire, and held it against his stump, attempting to cauterize the wound. If his first scream was anguished, then the sound he made when my red-hot sword pressed against him was even worse.”

Philippe clutched the Chevalier tighter, and went on “He fainted from the agony and never regained consciousness. He died about two hours later. At that point, I decided to stop feeling – stop feeling anything at all. I saw it as the only way to stay in control of my own mind, to stay in command. I do not know how I managed to turn off my emotions, but I did. Some part of me knew that my only choice was either to feel everything, or to feel nothing at all. I could not feel the good without feeling the bad. That is why I was so cruel to you.”

“I forgive you. You had to do things that no human can be expected to do. Command an army through hell.”

Philippe turned onto his back, staring again at the ceiling. “What are we going to now? I’m flying apart, I can’t live with what I’ve done, what I’ve become.” Philippe’s voice was desperate whisper.

“We are going to do what we just did. You will tell me each memory, and we will share the pain.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my darling.”

Philippe snuggled back into the Chevalier, moving against him like a cat longing to be caressed. The Chevalier stroked Philippe’s silky raven hair, offering soothing kisses and soft reassurances. Philippe ran his fingertips over the Chevalier’s face and began to stroke those magnificent cheekbones. “You need to know that I never thought of you as my whore, or a servant, or whatever the male equivalent of a mistress would be. If it were possible, I would call you my husband.”

“If it were possible, you would marry me?”

“Yes, in a heartbeat.”

Eyes brimming with tears, the Chevalier smiled gently and rolled on top of his love.

\----------------------------

Liselotte was having breakfast when her men finally emerged from their room. “I was wondering if you two were ever getting up. We are getting Alexander today. Now I know we had quite a late night, but –”

The Chevalier interrupted and turned to Philippe, who was only half awake but smiling anyway. “Darling, we had better hurry, before our little kuchen turns to sauerkraut.”

“I have not had sauerkraut since I gave birth, I will have you know.”

“But I do remember all those food cravings, for the oddest things and at the oddest hours –”

“Will the two of you please allow me to wake up before you begin arguing?” Philippe asked, clearly contented rather than annoyed.

Liselotte turned to the Chevalier “Has he always been this nocturnal? Should we begin wearing garlic just in case?”

Philippe gave a cry of mock-exasperation and dug into a cluster of grapes.

\------------------

An hour later, the trio was in their carriage, and, along with six outriders and two drivers, headed for the royal nurseries in Paris. Liselotte was glowingly happy; Philippe found himself stung, once again, by guilt.

“Liselotte, will you please forgive me for letting Maintenon take Alexander away in the first place?”

“I forgive you. You were not yourself.”

Philippe sighed. Liselotte and the Chevalier had more confidence in him than he had in himself. “Unless one of you objects, I am going to have riders bring the girls and their governess to Paris, and we will get them there in three days’ time. If we have to ride clear to St. Germain to get them, it will mean more time away from Alexander, and I suspect neither of you wants that.”

“But what about the puppies?” Liselotte asked. “We were going to get them on the way home from collecting the girls.”

“I’ve already talked to the Duc de Caleneau, their second son is coming back to Versailles this week, he will bring two puppies – a male and a female – when he comes back. He promised us a pair that are gentle and playful.”

The Chevalier was still not sure about having two pups running around their rooms, but Liselotte wanted her dogs. He sighed. “Sounds like a plan”.

\--------------

With the nursemaids seated in a separate carriage, heavily loaded with the baby’s furnishings, Philippe, Liselotte, and the Chevalier prepared to step back into their coach with Alexander. Philippe moved to lift their baby out of Liselotte’s arms, while the Chevalier offered his assistance to Liselotte as she re-entered the carriage.

As much as she wanted to hold her baby, Liselotte was pleased when Philippe did not hand Alexander back to her once they were all seated. Philippe held the baby close, looking at him as if it was the first time. In a very real way, it was.

To Liselotte and the Chevalier’s surprise, Philippe opened the top couple of buttons on his vest, and tucked the tiny bundle in against his shirt, tight to his chest.

Philippe glanced up, seeing the looks of satisfied surprise on his wife’s and lover’s faces. “I heard one of my men talking about this while we were at war. I always walked through camp in the evening, to check on the men at the end of the day. It seemed to calm both me and them. One night, I passed by some men sitting around a fire, sharing stories of their wives and children. One of them said that a father should hold his children against his heart, so they would know who their father is and know that he loves them. That makes sense to me.”

A mile or so down the road, the Chevalier undid a couple of the clasps on his vest. “My turn, please?” he said, reaching for the baby, who was contently sleeping.

Philippe pouted a second, and then carefully handed the baby over, cooing softly “Looks like your uncle Chevy wants his chance, too.”

The Chevalier beamed “Uncle Chevy. I like that.”

Liselotte smiled quietly to herself. If anyone had described such a family to her a couple of years ago, she would have been horrified, and would have begged her father not to send her to France. Now she considered herself the most blessed woman alive.

\------------

That evening, Philippe, Liselotte and the Chevalier sat together in the Orleans suite salon, with a crackling fire taking away the chill of the autumn evening, taking turns holding the baby, speaking very little, quiet, together, enraptured by the tiny miracle in their shared presence.

Liselotte spoke slowly, carefully. “Philippe, I know that you were not ready to have another child earlier, but, please, when you are ready – when you feel that you have healed enough from the war – I would like to give Alexander a brother or sister.

“Yes, I need a little more time, but, I promise, we will.”

The Chevalier studied Philippe’s face. Philippe was good at the card tables – people could rarely guess the hand he held from his face and eyes. But the Chevalier had over fifteen years of experience reading that face, and he could see the conflict in his lover’s heart.

\--------------

The Chevalier nestled snuggled Philippe next to him. He knew Philippe needed to talk; he knew he would give him a bit more time to do so, but the Chevalier was determined to talk the situation out before they slept – or made love. So many of their problems in the past could have been avoided if they had simply been honest with each other. Instead, he had acted out – powders, alcohol, gambling. Philippe, on the other hand, so prone to moodiness and anger, would turn inward and shut out those he loved. Neither were wise ways to handle trouble.

Philippe buried his face in his lover’s mane of golden curls – if only he could stay this way forever, but it could never be. He knew that the Chevalier was giving him time to speak, but he also knew that his love would not just let things pass. Since they had found their way back to each other – yet again – the Chevalier had been insistent that Philippe share his pain, bit by bit, as each memory and situation arose. Philippe knew he would not get off the hook any easier this time.

“I am a prince of France, third in line to the throne” Philippe whispered. “Why must I live as a whore?”

“Why do you feel like a whore, my darling?”

“First, I must marry my childhood friend, Henriette. We grew up together, she was like a sister, we were friends until that friendship was spoiled by being forced to marry. I know Louis wanted me to marry her so he could keep her in France, but it was all so wrong, Henriette and I were both in love with other people. The marriage served Louis’ ends, not mine and certainly not Henriette’s. But I had to sell my body at my brother’s command, partly to secure my inheritance and partly to ensure that he would not force me into a marriage that could be even worse. The only times I managed to fuck her was when I was angry with her and Louis. What kind of life is that?”

Philippe was weeping now, and the Chevalier pulled him close – what else could he do? “Hush, I am here.”

“And then he orders me to fuck Thomas. Oh, now I know he said it was to secure the commissions off that canal, but Louis and I both knew that if I refused, his next move would be to threaten you. Again.”

“You love me that much?”

“Yes, I do --- I will protect you from every evil on this earth, and especially my brother.”

The Chevalier pulled Philippe even tighter, for once at a loss for words.

“And now I am married to Liselotte – the most wonderful woman on earth. She deserves so much more than someone who will always love someone else first. But the more our friendship grows, the more disgusting the thought of lying with her again becomes.”

“You managed it before – you told me that she helped you imagine sweaty soldiers on the battlefield, Roman gladiators in their baths –”

“And every one of those gladiators had your face, your body – “

“You succeeded in having sex with her by closing your eyes and imagining it was me instead.”

“Yes! Damn it, yes! Sex with any woman is disgusting enough, but with your best friend, your sister – how can I ever give us another child? I can’t, oh God, I just can’t.” Philippe was sobbing again, his body shaking in fear and revulsion.

“Perhaps I can help.”

Philippe looked up, horrified at the suggestion. “NO! You and I look nothing alike. When the baby is born, and looks nothing like a Bourbon, and looks like you, Louis will send the baby away, dispatch Liselotte to a convent, and execute you. I can’t let that happen!”

The chevalier stroked his love’s hair, murmuring to him, soothing him. “No, I don’t mean like that. As I told you earlier, Liselotte and I sharing a bed would create too many problems for all of us. I love her, but not the way I love you. And I have no doubt that Louis would do as you said if the child appeared to be mine. I had something totally different in mind.”

“W-What?” Philippe stammered.

“Do you remember what I offered to do for you on your wedding night with Henriette?”

Philippe let out a small chuckle. “Yes, I remember, I had never been with a woman before. I not only found the act of consummation repulsive, I was petrified – I had no idea what to do with a woman.”

“Then we could do the same now. I will get you ready, slip across the hallway, knock on her door, Liselotte will be waiting, I will head to the salon, she will go to you, you will complete the act and Alexander will have a sibling.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“You can. I will help.”

“I just wish the universe would let us live together in peace.”

“As do I.”

\----------------

The Chevalier left Philippe sleeping the next morning, with instructions to clean the bedroom only after Philippe had risen. He found Liselotte having her breakfast, Alexander nearby in a nursemaid’s arms. With a sad smile, Liselotte looked up.

“I am glad you allowed him his sleep. I heard about the vase-crashing party.”

“That was quite a night.”

“Have the nightmares gotten any better?”

“Not yet, I think we need to give it time. I will gladly risk a bruise or two to get him through this.”

They ate in silence for time, and then the Chevalier spoke. “There is something I have meant to ask you. Why, when you first came here and I treated you so badly, why did you not shoot me, or just poison me? No one except Philippe would have mourned me, or even inquired as to my death.”

“I believe you just answered your own question. As you know, I am a hunter. Any good hunter knows that you never shoot something that you cannot kill. It only wastes your ammunition and turns the animal against you.”

Smiling, the Chevalier shook his head at her wisdom and resumed nibbling his pastry.

Another silence passed between them, this time broken by Liselotte. 

“How well do you know Philippe’s daughters?”

“Not very well. While Henriette was alive, they spent most of their time at St. Germain with their governess, and, while they were here, Henriette tried her hardest to make sure I never saw them, much less spend any real time with them.”

“Did she succeed?”

“Only partially. When she was busy, off having a swim or more likely with Louis, we would play with Marie Louise and take turns holding little Anne Marie – and we incurred Henriette’s wrath every time.”

Liselotte chose her next words carefully. “I have been told that Marie Louise and Anne Marie are just as likely Louis’ daughters as they are Philippe’s?”

“Philippe and I were already deeply in love when Louis forced Philippe and Henriette to marry. Louis married Spain for politics, but, Louis loved Henriette, as much as he is capable of love. None of us had any illusions about Philippe and Henriette’s marriage. While she was a virgin on her wedding night, she was in Louis’ bed within a month of the marriage. When Marie Louise was born a girl, Henriette wanted to throw her into the Seine.”

“No mother would wish that for her child, be it daughter or son.”

“Yes, she did, both Philippe and his mother heard it. And Henriette was even more upset when she realized Marie Louise was the image of Philippe, clearly his child and not Louis’.”

“I can see why it was best for the girls to live away from here as much as possible.”

“Looking back, it probably was. Minutes after Marie Louise was born, Philippe called me to the bedside, and showed me the baby. Henriette, already upset at a daughter who looked like Philippe, began screaming at me to get out, which I promptly did. A bad start all the way around.”

“And with Anne Marie?”

“I suspect she is of Philippe’s blood as well. By the time of her conception, both Henriette and Louise de La Vallière had been largely replaced in the King’s life by the Marquise de Montespan. In fact, Montespan had her first child by Louis a few months before Anne Marie was born and her second about seven months after Anne Marie’s birth. Louis never had any trouble keeping more than one mistress at a time, but I still want to believe Anne Marie is truly Philippe’s.”

“So, Marie Louise is now eleven and Anne Marie is now four. And they will now live with all three of their parents, in love and peace.”

\---------------------

Philippe finally woke up around eleven o’clock, propped himself up on one elbow, and found the chevalier sitting quietly across the room, sketch pad in hand.

“You should be outside on such a fine fall day.”

“No, I needed to be here, lest you have another nightmare. Besides, my darling, you know I don’t thrive on outdoor air.”

Philippe dropped back to the bed, silent, and then set his heart toward happier thoughts. “Marie Louise likes to write and draw. When she arrives here, could you teach her?”

“Of course. Now I can spend time with her and know that she has a mother who will approve of my involvement.”

With that, Philippe sat up on the side of the bed, and carefully placing his feet on the floor. “What are your plans for today and tomorrow? Can you think of anything we still need to do before we get the girls?”

“I believe Liselotte has thought of everything – down to making sure that the stables have prepared a place for Anne Marie’s pony. I am going to spend today with you, and then go into Paris tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Why I would want to spend a day with you should be obvious, my dear” the Chevalier smirked. “As to tomorrow in Paris, I plan to start fulfilling my promise to secure our family’s finances, with a trip to the studio of a young artist. He is attempting to gain acceptance into Colbert’s academy, but, until he does, his works should be available at rather modest prices. I hear his creations are remarkable. If I can buy his paintings at relatively low costs, bring them back here and auction them off for a considerable profit, our family will benefit considerably.” 

“Have you secured permission to hold this auction?”

“No, I would ask you to talk to your brother.”

Philippe grinned and laid back again on their bed “Maybe later.”

\------------------

It was later afternoon before Philippe emerged from the Orleans suite, bathed and dressed in the dark plum coat of the Chevalier’s choosing. He approached Louis rooms quietly. _I am so tired of having to ask my brother’s permission to breathe_, Philippe brooded. _The time will come when France will no longer tolerate being ruled by one man, and I am not sure if I yearn for or dread such a time._

\------------------

“Brother, I want to hold an art auction here at Versailles, soon. I am acquiring a quantity of the paintings of young artist in Paris. I plan to retain some for myself, but would be interested in selling a number of them. The nobles need frequent diversions if they are to remain content” Philippe hoped that the combination of logic and threat would appeal to both Louis’ sense and his paranoia.

“And who will auction off these paintings?”

“I see no reason not to utilize the House of Pierre Avondere, he has done a credible job with auctions here in the past. Given that the weather is cooling, we could hold the auction in the orangery.”

“Very well. You are correct, the nobility needs constant entertainment, they will soon fall into boredom if they are not amused, and boredom leads to rebellion. Proceed with your plans, but check with Bontemps before you finalize the date.”

Philippe nodded in appreciation, and then gave Louis a very level gaze. “I would also request that three places be set for my household at the dinner tomorrow night.”

“No.”

Philippe’s eyes narrowed “You seat your ever-changing array of mistresses at our table, and yet you deny me a place for my friend of over fifteen years?”

“You will leave your deviancies in your own rooms. We will not remind you of this again.”

Whenever Louis started calling himself “we” Philippe always knew it was time to take his leave. Continuing the argument would only make things worse. Philippe gave his brother a forced, stiff bow, turned and left.

\-----------------

As usual, the Chevalier removed Philippe’s coat and vest as soon as they retreated to their room for the night. Philippe loved the attention, and, after living so much of his life as second-best, whether it be in his mother’s eyes, in Henriette’s heart, or in the perception of the court, he never tired of being first in someone’s life. But, as soon as he was in just his shirt and breeches, Philippe turned to the Chevalier and began undressing him as well – of course, he was driven primarily by passion, but Philippe also wanted to remind the Chevalier that he saw him as an equal – not as a servant or inferior.

The Chevalier returned Philippe’s actions with a very suggestive smirk. “Now that we have removed each other’s coats and vests, should we not finish the job?”

“This is a task that demands great concentration” Philippe explained, pushing the Chevalier toward their bed. “So, I must proceed very slowly, and ensure that I take great care with each step.”

Philippe moved in to kiss his love, a tongue-twisting kiss that lasted long enough for him to get the Chevalier’s shirt up over his head. Slowly Philippe brushed his fingers over his love’s golden chest, lightly touching, swirling his fingertips unhurriedly, trying to arose the Chevalier’s passion bit by bit. Gradually, he moved downward, fingers probing into the top of Lorraine’s breeches, watching his Chevalier throw his head back and moan for more.

Teasing, Philippe moved his hand back upward to his lover’s chest, gently twisting and twirling his nipples, lips moving to each rib, sucking and kissing a path from chest to jaw.

“Philippe” Lorraine panted “Get on with it!”

“No, not yet, you will appreciate the entrée more if we linger over the appetizers” was Philippe’s reply, as he began to gradually pull the Chevalier’s breeches down and off.

Lorraine had had enough. He pulled Philippe into a hungry, lustful kiss, and then pushed Philippe’s head down to his throbbing, leaking cock.

For the thousandth time, Philippe worked his magic, and soon they were both laying side by side, Lorraine gasping for air, and Philippe right back at it, twirling his fingers in Lorraine’s public hairs.

” I suppose it is my turn to do my duty” Lorraine whispered, already experiencing another arousal as Philippe’s hand caressed Lorraine’s cock, Lorraine savoring the prospect of bringing Philippe to the same sweet release that he, himself, had just experienced.

The Chevalier rolled Philippe onto his back and began kissing his long, soft, pale neck, removing Philippe’s clothes as he kissed and sucked that neck – and watched Philippe lose all control as he writhed beneath him. Lorraine loved these moments – when he could transport Philippe away from Louis’ demands, away from the war, away from everything in the universe save their mutual passion and love.

Lorraine kissed down the sensitive skin along Philippe’s sides, and savored the little begging sounds coming from Philippe’s mouth – sounds that he once feared he would never hear again. Grabbing the vial of oil from their bedside table, he pushed Philippe’s knees up toward his chest and found his hole, working slowly, adding a second finger and then a third, massaging that sensitive spot until Philippe was clutching the sheets and screaming in desire. The oil came next, working it into Philippe, and over his own cock until he was sure they were both ready, and then he entered his Prince, moving in and out, tantalizing them both with each motion. Finally, he reached for Philippe’s cock, rock-hard and dripping, and stroked it one, two, three times, and felt them come together.

A few minutes later, Philippe laid curled next to his Chevalier, like a cat on a trusted lap, rubbing his face against Lorraine’s chest, melted and purring. This was what he lived for. This was what he was determined to never lose again.

\--------------

The next day, the Chevalier stood outside the shop of the young artist. The young man seemed to paint mostly landscapes and hunting scenes, and they were beautiful, with colors and shadows expertly blending together.

Then Lorraine had an idea – a delicious, evil, and very profitable idea.

Why not enrich their household at the expense of a couple of philandering nobles? Secure his family’s finances, and seek some sweet fun. He’d need Philippe and Liselotte’s help, but it was worth a try.

\--------------

The Chevalier left the artist’s shop with no less then twelve paintings. The artist was willing to give him a good deal on them – the young man was no fool, and he knew that the deal Lorraine offered – forty-five percent of the going price of each painting sold at a court auction – was not only a fine payment in itself, but he also knew that an introduction to the court at Versailles promised considerable additional revenue down the road.

\--------------

“Very, very nice” Philippe smiled as he carefully examined a spring-hued painting of a young stable boy helping a noblewoman with her horse, a mounted nobleman, likely the woman’s husband, nearby on a magnificent black mare.

“Actually, I had a special plan for that painting, but I will need the cooperation of you both” Lorraine grinned his most devilish smile.

“All right, I am intrigued, what do you have in mind?” Liselotte replied, clearly warming up to any scheme the Chevalier might propose.

“I think we may be able to get a lot more for that painting than what is worth, if we play our cards right. There is a stable boy –”

“Pierre Bonheur” Philippe interrupted, with a small smirk.

That took the Chevalier by surprise. Not sure if he was impressed or disturbed, Lorraine asked,” You know him?”

“How could I not?” he tends my horse like no other, holds my hand too long each time he helps me onto my mount, and makes his intent clear with every smile.”

“Do I want to hear this?” Liselotte interjected.

“No need for either of you to worry. I’ve never fucked him, or let him fuck me, if that is what you mean. But I know he has had half the nobles at Versailles, male and female.”

“Do you know that the Duchess de Fournier has been meeting with said stable boy, our young Bonheur, on a regular basis, for, shall we say, a weekly roll in the hay?” Lorraine replied.

“And the Duc and Duchess de Fournier are fabulously rich, and, as I recall, the Duc seems to believe his wife is the embodiment of virtue” Liselotte snickered, the plan becoming clear to all three of them.

“No, I was not aware that the Duchess de Fournier was one of his “clients”, but I am not surprised” Philippe admitted. “And the Duchess would be willing to pay a great sum for this painting, if in exchange for that great sum, we agreed to keep her secret. Good plan, but we need someone to bid against her.”

“The Marquis LaPointe, who carries a princely purse, has also enjoyed young Bonheur’s skills, I happen to know. One learns many things over a card table, especially if one drinks only one glass to the other player’s two” Lorraine innocently volunteered.

“And most of his wealth comes from his wife’s family. Or, I should say, from his rich and irritable father in law. When it came time for him to marry, he had several options, given his rank and good looks. He chose the richest woman he could find” Philippe added.

Lorraine and Liselotte shook their heads and smiled – this was going to be fun. And, if properly played, highly profitable.

\----------------

The Chevalier made sure a note was passed to each the Duchess de Fournier and the Marquis LaPointe the following day. Both notes read “A painting of a noble family and a stable boy will be made available to the court at the auction on Friday. I suggest that you pay whatever is necessary to obtain said painting. After all, a stable boy does make a fine addition to any marriage.”

\-----------------

Two nights later, Philippe sat in the Orleans salon, surveying his family. It was cool night, a warm and welcoming fire burned in the hearth, and a puppy laid across his lap, sleeping contently. The Chevalier sat next to Marie Louise, both of them working over a sketch pad propped up on an easel, chatting over a drawing they were apparently creating together. A nursemaid sat nearby rocking little Alexander, while Liselotte cuddled Anne Marie to one side and the second puppy to her other, reading the little girl a fairy tale, a story of knights and princesses from a kingdom far, far away.

And Philippe knew he was the most blessed man alive.

\---------------

The day of auction arrived, and Lorraine had supervised the decoration of the orangery for the event: The linens, flowers, servants, and tables were immaculate. Several orange trees had been moved to each side of the auctioneer’s podium, and adorned with strings of silk leaves in hues of red, orange, and gold. The first two paintings brought good prices, but Philippe, Lorraine, and Liselotte were more interested in the third.

As it came time for the painting of interest to be auctioned, Philippe moved closer to LaPointe, and Liselotte to the Duchess de Fournier.

And both smiled.

The auctioning began, with Lapointe starting the bidding at the minimum of twenty thousand, and the Duc de Fournier smiling at his cherished wife and raising the bid to thirty.

LaPointe quickly countered with forty, followed by de Fournier going for fifty.

At this point, LaPointe was looking, to Philippe’s eyes, a bit nervous, so Philippe moved in closer, and smiled slyly at LaPointe again, intent unmistakable.

And LaPointe raised the bid to sixty thousand.

Maintenon was moving across the room, toward the King.

By this time, the Duchess de Fournier was pleading with her husband to raise the bid again, glancing at the sweetly smiling Liselotte every few seconds, when the voice of the King rose over the whispers of the crowd.

“Eighty thousand” he commanded, glancing at Madame de Maintenon, who was now standing very close to the King, smiling demurely in return.

No one was willing to bid against the King of France. The auctioneer’s assistants carefully removed the painting from its stand, and presented it to King, who, in turn, offered it to Maintenon.

And Philippe, Lorraine, and Liselotte had all they could do to not split open in laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> This is likely the last in story in my “Time for Every Purpose” series, I plan to move on to a modern-era AU that I have been working up. I enjoyed writing all four of these stories, and, in this last one, I especially relished watching the Orleans Suite Gang get eighty thousand off of Louis because of Louis’ vanity and his captivation with Maintenon.
> 
> Much of my writing of this four-story series was pure therapy – I was not happy with the way Versailles ended and I wanted to clear up a lot of unfinished story lines. I think I have reached the place where I am at peace now. I hope you have enjoyed this journey with me.
> 
> First Minister of State Jean Baptiste Colbert did, indeed, run an academy for artists, but he insisted that his sponsored artists spend most of their time painting glorious pictures of King Louis and not much else.
> 
> The French surname Bonheur means “good time” or “lucky”; Fournier means “oven”; and LaPointe means “the point of a lance”.


End file.
